Drop by Drop
by PetchricorXConstellation
Summary: Grif cuts himself and is found by Simmons who sends Donut for Doc. When Sarge finds out that he's the cause, what will he do? *rated T for cutting*


**This starts out depressing but then gets fluffy. Enjoy**

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"Grif? Grif! Come on, stop messing around, we have to go on patrol and you're not getting out of it again," Simmons called through the base. He was suited up in his maroon armor and he was supposed to have left on patrol five minutes ago with red team's laziest team member. He paused as he heard running water and walked into the bathroom with a kicked. "Come on lazy-ass, we-" Simmons stopped and his helmet fell to the floor. Grif sat with the top half of his body slumped over the tub and his right arm held under the running water, the water turning an eery red as it ran over his cut wrist. "GRIF!"

Simmons ran to his friend's side and held his wrist in his hand. The cuts were deep and became covered with blood the minute he took them out of the water. Simmons felt himself starting to shake as he looked at Grif's pale face. He had lost far to much blood. Simmons put Grif's wrist back under the water and he grunted, wincing in pain. Simmons gulped and took a deep breath, not knowing what to do.

"Simmons, I hear you scream, what's-OHMYGOD!" Donut covered his mouth in horror at the sight before him. Simmons turned to Donut and pointed out the door.

"Go and get Doc from blue base, now!" he ordered. Without hesitation Donut bolted out of the room. Simmons turned to Grif and brushed some hair out of his pale face. Simmons took a shaky breath and gave him a gentle hug. "Why, Grif? Why would you do this?" Simmons pulled back and looked over his face, his calm and sleeping face. "What's wrong? Why didn't you tell me?" He heard more footsteps and looked over his shoulder as Sarge walked in, giving him a stern look. "Sir, I-" Simmons was cut off as Sarge gave him a stern look and walked into the bathroom, looking Grif over.

"Out," Sarge said sternly. Simmons started to protest, but Sarge would not have it. "Out, now. That's an order." His voice was cold as if he was trying to keep a certain tone out of his voice. Simmons swallowed nervously, stood, and left the room after grabbing his helmet from the floor. Once he was gone Sarge knelt down, turning the water off and leaning Grif up against the wall. He stood up and grabbed a thick towel as well as some medical alcohol.

He knelt by Grif again and held his wrist over the tub. He poured the alcohol over the towel and put it on his wrist, applying pressure. Grif winced and groaned in pain, though stayed unconscious. Sarge held the towel there for the longest time, waiting until Donut came back with Doc. Sarge bushed the hair out of Grif's face again and gave a soft sigh. He heard footsteps and Doc rushed in, combat boots pounding against the floor. Sarge stood and watched along with the rest of his team while Doc worked, cleaning the wounds, stitching up some, and wrapping it up.

"He's going to need blood," Doc told them, standing up and turning to face them. "And the only person with his blood type is Washington. Sarge, I know that you don't like Grif and hate Wash with a passion, but I think that you should-"

"Simmons, go get agent Washington," Sarge ordered. Everyone stared at him a long moment in shock. "Now!" Simmons ran off in a heartbeat and Sarge turned to Doc. "Let's get him laid out." Doc nodded and the two took Grif into the living room, laying him on the ground and preparing him for the blood transfusion. When Wash came he was fully ready to save Grif's life, and all Sarge could do was whisper: "Thank you."

...

Grif's head swam and his thoughts felt like soup. He opened his eyes slowly and gasped. He was alive, why the fuck was he alive? He was supposed to be dead! That was the entire point! Grif sat up and decided to use a gun this time. He stopped, however, as a hand was placed on his shoulder. Grif looked over to see Sarge staring down at him. Grif huffed and looked away. All aboard the insult train! Grif scowled. He looked over as Sarge pulled up a chair and sat down by his bed, giving Grif a look he had never seen him wear before. Worry? Why the hell was he worried about him? Sarge hated him!

"What's the matter?" Sarge asked, his voice calm without its normal coldness. He gently grabbed Grif's wrist and held it up, revealing the gauze wrapped around it. Grif yanked his wrist away and winced in pain, holding it protectively against his chest. Grif," his voice became soft now, catching Grif by surprise as he looked over at Sarge, who looked genuinely concerned. "Please, talk to me. You wouldn't do that without a reason. Now, you don't have to tell me everything, just answer me this: Is this my fault?" Grif stared at Sarge, thinking the question over a long moment before looking away.

"Yes," he murmured, trying to stop the tears. He gritted his teeth. "You reject me and hurt me, what the hell did I ever do to you?! What did I do to anyone to deserve this?!" Sarge looked at Grif as he shook from withheld tears. "I just get pushed away from everyone, time and time again, and no one seems to give a shit. So, maybe I shouldn't even be here, it's not like I have anything else left to live for. My sister's dead now, my mom doesn't care, and-" Grif stopped, looking away.

"And your father never showed up for even one goddamn birthday," Sarge finished for him. Grif looked at Sarge, tears welling up in his eyes, as he said this. "I read your file Grif, I know all about that. And I'm sorry, I never should have treated you that way. But please, don't ever do that again. You scared me, you scared all of us, and I thought you were going to die." Grif sobbed and looked away.

"Stop it, ok? Just stop it," Grif said, his voice shaking. "Stop acting like you care, you don't! None of you give a shit, so stop acting like-" Grif was silenced as Sarge brought him in a tight hug. Grif struggled a moment but stopped after a moment, holding onto Sarge and crying. Sarge sighed and held Grif tightly as he cried. The poor boy was just looking for exceptence, that's all. And Sarge was going to suck it up and give it too him.

"Hey," Sarge whispered with a smile on his face and in his tone. "There are some oreos in the kitchen, you want some?" Grif smiled and nodded. Sarge stood up and the two walked own the hall and into the kitchen. Grif was a good kid, lazy but good, and had potential. He just need a gentle nudge every now and again to keep him on the right track. And perhaps Sarge was the person who had to do that. Yeah, perhaps he was.

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**And that's a wrap.  
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**Thanks for reading, please review, and have a bow chicka bow wow day!  
Perla: And may it be the best day ever, of all time**


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